Clay
by DoceoPercepto
Summary: When the world is taken over by a triangle that prefers to spend his time harassing his favorite of the Mystery Twins


Sometimes he'd be back in Gravity Falls. The first summer, the way he liked to remember that place. The Mystery Twins on another adventure; finding the journal – he liked that part, he could even convince himself that it didn't – exploring the woods, laughing at Stan's – he could almost convince himself.

Sometimes he forgot.

The future. The present. The past. One or two at a time. Never all three, because Bill didn't let that happen. That'd be too easy.

Sometimes he invented new adventures. Sometimes… as if it had all gone right.

He and Mabel ran from monsters, and studied the journal, and learned one by one all its secrets, and in this summer, it wasn't all dark, it didn't end all -

"Wow kid, you sure have an imagination. Haha! Like _that_ could have happened. Cute, though."

The sheer sound of that voice could send him cringing into the corner. At least he felt that way. It had been a while since he'd actually… where was he?

Sometimes small little questions like that occurred to him. Petty things. They didn't really matter, in the end, because he never knew the answer.

Where was he?

Who was he?

Well, he knew that. Mostly. Most of the time.

What was he doing?

Often, these questions arrived with a paralyzing burst of panic. Once, the shock was enough to make coherency surface. He'd opened his eyes a few times, only to find them gazing out at destruction and servility and worship and –

Unfamiliar places. Some familiar places. Horror. Defeat. Realization. Remembrance. A knowing – this was happening. Above the haze, _this_ was happening.

But then he'd forget the question, and he'd forget the need for an answer. Close his eyes. Welcome. Fighting was too hard, exhausting. Questioning was too exhausting. He had no energy for that.

That was okay. The questions jolted him less and less nowadays; for

What was time?

They were quiet, subdued. A world tinted in grey was more intimate to him than any other reality. The real world… the supposed real world… it was so painfully harsh. So lurid. Bright. Glancing piercing glinting in his eyes at all times. And the things it showed… god, the horror it displayed.

Sometimes that world followed him into his dreamdelusions. Sometimes he had not dreams but nightmares, and something dark dark dark in him feared knew that

Tongues of flame. The Mystery Shack lifted off its supports. Distorted, terror-stricken faces. Choking tension in his chest, smoke in his lungs; trembling hands racing through pages, searching searching, while his mouth uttered whimpers and pleadings and he prayed to whatever would listen. The agony in the eyes of his friends, the sight of everything changing and nothing being true and losses becoming like currency and demons and monsters and his laugh, that laugh, that infuriating-

Tear-stricken and screaming and throwing away everything because nothing was even left -

and then Mabel, too. Mabel.

He guessed that's what got him to summon Bill. Hadn't thought he'd do that again. Funny, now.

_Pain is hilarious_

"You're no fun like this, Pine Tree."

Funny, now. How ridiculous, he'd been. To think things were definite like that. That circumstances couldn't change and turn everything on their head. He knew now. The world was malleable. It was all so

Weak

Like clay. So fragile. Everything the way it was only by the most fragile thread. When you were as powerful as Bill, those things were funny. Those tender vulnerable strands. It took nothing to change things from their regular order.

Except when it came to things organized in just such a way

Wards. Demon wards. Some. Not all. He was too powerful for most. But some.

Dipper had gotten real, real good at knowing Bill now. His weaknesses. Strengths. Weird how those things merged. Funny how they thought they could use any weakness against him. But, Dipper knew a lot of things now. Lots of things. Maybe everything. It didn't seem as good now, the knowing things. He liked to relax and forget.

"You can't just give up like that!" Mild disdain. "It's dumb how fragile you humans are."

Maybe he could dream nice things now. He liked to dream of those good memories. He liked to dream of a place where nothing went wrong. It really was nice of Bill to let him have those dreams. Bill really was good to him, wasn't he? He was good to him.

Gagging.

Bill?

Hopeful. At least that meant good dreams could be created.

"Come on, Pine Tree! You're not even half the guy you used to be. At least you were interesting then."

_Who is Mabel?_ Shock. Images. Relax. Surrender. It happened. Or it didn't happen. They were the same in the end.

"Tsk tsk."

The same in the end. It didn't-

"Yawwwn. I think that's enough, kid! Let's call my part of the deal fulfilled, yeah? Have fun, Pine Tree."

* * *

**A/N: **Haven't_ written in this sporadic format in a while. Sometimes good for my overall health, methinks. Have several ideas around this one; post-apocalpytic world where Bill fucks with Dipper's head. I should sleep. _


End file.
